


Art for Art's Sake

by Magnusismyrock



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Artists, Dubious Consent, Incest, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-01
Updated: 2011-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-26 11:57:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/282790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Magnusismyrock/pseuds/Magnusismyrock
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard draws porn for Mikey on occasion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Art for Art's Sake

“Gerard, will you draw a picture for me?” Mikey asked innocently. Everything about him was innocent in tenth grade, from his smile to his eyes to those stupid second-hand Vans he was so proud of. Maybe I wasn’t paying close enough attention.

“Sure, what kind of picture?” I asked. I assumed it would be his usual comic-book hero persona or a pretty scene he saw.

“Well,” he paused to take a breath. “I want you to draw me some porn,” he said, letting it all out at once.

I raised an eyebrow. “Um. Well, I -- I guess I could do that. What? What kind?” I asked.

“Whatever you want. Doesn’t matter to me, just make sure it’s really hot.” He shrugged and walked away, completely nonchalant.

I sat down and drew him a picture of some girl I had met at a party, naked and touching a nipple with one hand, the other making its way towards her lady-parts.

~

I’ve lost track of how many times he’s come to me and asked the same thing. Sometimes he asks for something specific and sometimes he just lets me do what I want.

I have noticed a pattern, though. He usually wants new material twice a week -- more if he’s giving it away to a friend or selling it -- but sometimes I jerk off beforehand and draw what I was imagining.Those times he doesn’t ask for more for about two weeks. It took me awhile to realize why: we have similar tastes in both men and women. When I like it, he usually likes it just as much.

~

“Hey Gerard, you got time? I want more material,” Mikey asked one day.

I nodded. “Yeah, what do you want this time? Male or female?”

“Male, but a specific guy.” He smiled mischievously. “I want you to draw yourself jerking off. I’m gonna give it to Pete for his birthday.”

My face went hot. “I -- I don’t know. I don’t really know how I look when I... do that,” I stuttered.

“Well, go jerk off to a mirror or something. I don’t know; Pete asked for it and I said I would get it for him.”

“I’m not really comfortable with Pete seeing that sort of thing -- you either. You’re my brother; it’ll fucking scar you for life,” I said, hoping he would drop the subject.

He rolled his eyes. “Come on, I said I would get it for him. Do I have to force you out of your clothes? ‘Cause I will.”

“Uh, no. You don’t have to do anything like that, but I’m not gonna draw it.”

“Well then, you want me to do it the hard way, so I will.” He smirked, approaching.

Next thing I knew, his lips were pressed softly to mine, hand snaking up my shirt?

“Are you gonna draw it yet?” He asked.

“N- no!”

So he kissed me again, and then my shirt was off and I was being dragged towards the bathroom with the good full body mirror. Before I really noticed, my pants were unzipped and I’d somehow gotten an erection. No idea how it happened, really -- certainly not because of Mikey.

“You gonna draw it now?” He asked with a sly smile. A challenge.

“No.” I looked him straight in the eye, accepting the challenge.

He shrugged. “Okay, fine. I’ll be right back. While I’m gone get undressed and jerk off in the mirror, but don’t cum. You got that?”

“Yeah,” I said. No backing out now.

~

When he got back, he was carrying my sketchpad, some pens, pencils, my favorite colored pencils and markers, and some charcoal. At least he was giving me options. I was undressed in front of the mirror like he’d asked, jerking off but not cumming, which was torture enough.

“Okay,” he said, calm as ever. “I’m going to jerk you off in front of the mirror. You’re gonna take it, and you have to keep drawing. You aren’t allowed to cum till you ‘ve finished the picture, and when you think you have, tell me so I can approve it. Nothing half-assed.” He smirked condescendingly. “You can look at the mirror for inspiration and reference anytime.” He passed my the supplies and grabbed my dick firmly -- oh, fuck, it was so different when it was him -- and he began jerking me off in smooth, fluid motions. I braced myself and began drawing.

After a quick skeleton, I detailed the stomach, just because it was easy. Not really defined or detailed. Kind of on the chubby side but still okay. Next came the legs. Strong but flabby. Then the arms. Nothing special there.

“Mike -- Mikey, I -- I can’t hold out,” I panted into his ear. He had just sped up and added this little twist, even flicking his thumb over the head on occasion.

“Gerard, you're not allowed to cum. You hear me?” He said. He never once took his eyes off my reflection. “Keep working.”

“But. I can’t, Mikey,” I slurred, almost there. At that Mikey stopped completely. I immediately moved to get myself off, but he caught my hands and directed them to the paper again. He replaced his grip on my cock but didn’t move, instead squeezing lightly as I began drawing again.

I drew my head, but when I got to the face, Mikey made my stop and draw my hands and feet first. I’d been saving it for last, but Mikey wasn’t having any of that, so I finally drew my cock. The head was nicely shaped, and it wasn’t overly large nor small. Just right. One of the arms was a bit off because I had to sort of guess where it would be, my real arm busy drawing, so I fixed it then.

Mikey pulled my hair and bit my shoulder once he was sure I was done. “Look straight at the mirror when you come, and put that face on the picture,” he whispered.

Finally he began to stroke in earnest, and it didn’t take much of that to push me over the edge. I came hard, over his hand and streaking the mirror. He jerked me through it until I was whimpering from over-sensitivity.

“Draw,” he said.

I nodded. I’d watched my face, so I quickly drew it in it’s place -- eyes lidded, mouth open, and of course I had to restructure the jaw for that, because nothing was ever simple.

Reluctantly, I got up, washed off, and grabbed everything but the picture and headed to my room, not meeting his eyes. Mikey followed soon. He came in and said thanks, suddenly all business, and put the picture on top of his dresser. He wiped his hand off on the edge of the paper and went back to clean off. When he came back, he was texting, presumably to Pete.

He grabbed the picture and examined it, a small smile playing across his face. “It’s pretty good,” he said, “but sort of rushed. I’m sure you’ll do better next time.”


End file.
